


How Did You Know?

by mathilde



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, thats it thats the tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 15:36:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mathilde/pseuds/mathilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How did you know?"</p><p>"About what?"</p><p>"Me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Did You Know?

**Author's Note:**

> oh wow this is my first time posting here i don't even KNOW THE PROPER ETIQUETTE HOW DO YOU AO3?

“How did you know?” Stiles asks him once, when they’re alone in Derek’s new apartment. It still smells of that weird pot-pourri stuff Derek bought a few days ago, but there’s the smell of pasta and marinara sauce to mask it. (The pot-pourri, Lydia had ended up throwing away; saying something about it being bad feng-shui for the place―and okay, whatever, she was right, because it smelled like death and funeral homes and oh, god, they _did not_ need that. Derek’s taste in décor would forever be questionable.) It smells―homey. Yeah.

“About what?”

“Me.”

The kitchen is too small for the pack, but for them two, it’s big enough not to be in each other’s space. Derek likes it this way, he knows―small spaces, and what little stuff they can hold, are easy to get over when they burn to the ground.

Stiles raises an eyebrow when Derek’s silence stretches. He elbows him gently in the ribs; it does nothing but deepen Derek’s frown, which should not be adorable, but fuck, it is. Stiles lets out an over-dramatic sigh, and smirks when he can feel Derek stiffen besides him. “Derek?”

“I don’t know, Stiles―I just knew,” comes the answer, clipped and borderline snappy. He stirs the sauce almost violently, like it’s the sauce’s fault Stiles would ask something like this. And Stiles rolls his eyes, because of course, Derek would go for the cliché answers. Anything not to talk about Feelings, with a capital F.

“Really. Just like that.”

Derek closes his eyes and really, it looks like it’s the most painful experience of his life. “You just―when you looked at me, that one time, I just knew, okay?” Oh, that gets Stiles’ attention, though―he perks up and his smirk widens a little.

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

“Derek.” His voice is low, casual, but it’s still a little threatening―because he’s long learned that Derek responds to violence better than warmth and affection and it’s okay, they’re working on it. But that doesn’t mean Stiles won’t let himself take advantage of it, every now and then.

Derek stops stirring the sauce and eyes him with what someone might think would be pure hatred. But they’re long past that―and it does nothing to Stiles but want to kiss him dirty until Derek’s nothing but _please, Stiles_ and _harder, harder, fuck_. Later. “Just―when you came home for Thanksgiving three years ago, and you were helping your dad take the groceries inside―you just looked over your shoulder, ‘cause you knew I was gonna be there, and you just―I don’t know. I just knew, then.”

Stiles waits, because he thinks there might be something more to it, but―Derek turns back to the sauce and nope, show’s over.

“Aw, don’t stop now, baby! I love it―makes me feel all tingly and shit.”

Derek snorts and the moment’s properly gone.

That’s as much as he’s going to get. Stiles makes a pleased sound at the back of his throat, and goes to open the bottle of wine. He takes out two glasses and fills them halfway and sets the table. He looks over his shoulder as he finishes up, and sees Derek watching him with a sour expression, two plates of pasta in hand. Stiles rolls his eyes and crosses the space between them. “Love you, too,” he whispers against his lips, and Derek’s face softens.

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted on tumblr over at mathildus.tumblr.com


End file.
